


Truly, Madly, Cold

by thebestawful



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars RPF
Genre: Affair? I don't think so, Confessions of Love?? Idk, Empire Strikes Back, Esb, F/M, Harrison Ford - Freeform, Idk uhmmmmm, Norway!, Snow and Chocolate, Soft!, age gap, carrie fisher - Freeform, carrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebestawful/pseuds/thebestawful
Summary: When Harrison and Carrie are trying to distract themselves on a May night, some truths come to light.
Relationships: Carrie Fisher/Harrison Ford
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Truly, Madly, Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I was struggling with lack of inspiration when this came out. The truth is that I really liked how it turned out, so I decided to share it. Also, I thought it would be a good start here!

She brought the cup of hot chocolate to her lips, and blew just a little before taking a sip. She smiled, satisfied, and repeated the process until the content in her cup was in half. Then she put the cup away and paced it on the table in front of her, and sighed as she tuck herself in her own coat and in the blanket she was wearing on top. With her tongue she wiped away the rest of the chocolate that had been scattered on her lips, and looked up until she saw Harrison looking at her from the other sofa, smiling. 

“What?”

“Your nose is red. And your lips are full of chocolate,” He said, as if it was the most obvious and easy question of all. He brought his own cup to his lips, and blew until he could drink it. “It’s cute.” 

Carrie smiled at that: As soon as he had separated from the cup, a chocolate mustache adorned his face: “Whoa! The king of chocolate mustaches has spoken.” 

Before Harrison could react, Carrie had reached for her camera that was permanently resting on the table and captured his face in a photo. Harrison frowned, but immediately reached out to take the camera out of the hands of a confused Carrie, and he had done the same: Two of those chocolate mustache pictures would now exist in the camera roll.  
Carrie smiled, her laughter growing louder as time went by, as she ran the back of her hand to remove the chocolate trail. 

Harrison, on the other hand, continued to drink from his chocolate regardless of whether it would increase his mustache.

“How are you?” Carrie asked from all that silence. The older one looked at her with a raised eyebrow, not knowing exactly what she was asking, but the brunette nodded to herself as she ran her finger over the table surface. “You divorced last year, right? Sorry for not asking before, but…

“There’s nothing to regret,” he interrupted. Carrie’s doe eyes went up to look at him, stopping her finger. “It’s not your obligation. Also, to be fair, I don’t remember telling you in all this time either.” 

“I’ve been fine. I have no right to regret anything, really. My marriage was going wrong since ‘76, and although we tried to work it out, it was impossible. But, y’know, I feel bad for the boys. It’s what… What hurts me the most.” 

Carrie was nodding after a few sentences, and when Harrison returned the silence from the place, they both looked at each other carefully. 

“If there’s something I could do, would you tell me?”

“Actually, there’s something you can do, Carrie,” he replied simply, lifting his shoulders gently. Carrie raised one of her thin eyebrows, taking her mug and waiting for a concrete answer. “Could you sit with me on the floor and… Distract me?”

She loved when he asked to distract him. It was always a challenge, but the chocolate had lightened the atmosphere between both this time, and she hoped it would make her next task easier. She nodded, more than happy, and fixed everything on the sofa from which she got up before walking to the front of the fireplace and sitting down. Seconds later her friend was imitating her, and together they looked at the fire on that completely cold May night. She slowly reached out and wrapped her arm around his body until the both shared the blanket she had been using for quite some time. Harrison gave a small laugh, sounding more like a puff rather, as he took the end of the blanket from between the small hand and settled himself on the piece of cloth with precision.

In silence they stayed longer, just watching how the wood was consumed by the fire and the snowflakes stuck to the windows, revealing a Norway illuminated by the lamp posts. 

“I wish I knew what other people really thought of me, don’t you?”

She was surprised at the question, knowing in advance how she would answer. The depth of the matter left her silent for a few more minutes, looking around. The small room in the house where he was staying while filming - and where he had gladly welcomed her - was lit only by the fireplace, making completely unimaginable shadows on the walls and on the floor. The flickering light shifted Harrison’s face from fully lit to dim, and his scar was highlighted by shadows.  
His hair transmitted an orange glow that made her want to run her hands through its strands, and his eyes seemed brighter than usual.  
Perhaps due to the lack of light.  
His lips were parted; he breathed calmly, one of his hands drew patterns on his pants and the other held the blanket, and his eyes were fixed on the wooden floor. 

“I guess so.”

Harrison gave a small laugh, but Carrie didn’t even notice it: She just heard her own heart pound in her ears. Because, for some reason, that topic of conversation had brought back something that had been spinning in her mind for two years in a row. 

She loved him. 

She really loved him. She loved him too much. She had loved him ever since they had met in that movie, and she was sure she would continue to love him for forty years and more. Because she knew he was the love of her life even though, perhaps, she was not his.  
She was so in love with him that she felt how it killed her. 

“I’m serious. Wouldn’t you like to know what I’m thinkin’ of you right now?” Carrie looked away, better concentrating on the fire. 

“It probably wouldn’t be beneficial to me, but I sure would love to. When you talk about knowing what they think of you, do you mean having confidence with them or just reading their minds?”

Harrison seemed to think about that, because he stopped the patterns and looked up at the fireplace wall. 

“I don’t know. Perhaps reading minds would be a privacy violation.”

“And would you mind?”

With a smile, he turned to see her: “No. Yes. It depends.”

Carrie sipped her mug loudly, licking her lips: “Depends on what?”

“Depends on who it is.”

“Would you read my mind?”

The snow stopped, but the cold surely didn’t. Norway had been the perfect place to represent Hoth’s frozen hell, and the whole crew agreed. 

“Your mind? Hell no. It’s more complex that I tend to handle.”

For real? Carrie, even though she knew her head was a little complicated, considered it easier than he was. Because he, in amounts a little larger than her own, never seemed to know what he wanted. 

“So the other option would be the confidence. Trust. But, as it’s difficult to obtain, I prefer a filter of the reading of mind that gives you the freedom to study the mind of the opponent but only according to, well, the thoughts that they have of me.”

She nodded. That answer seemed to be valid, really, so she wouldn’t question that. 

“It seems fair to me. Does it really count?” He shrugged, but it seemed to be enough of an answer for her. She was more than used to receiving imprecise answers, and she knew that many times the words with him were superfluous.  
She watched helplessly as they fell back into the monotony of silence, even though they had nearly two years of which to catch up. She set her cup aside, completely empty, and started to slide her hands into her arms with the idea of getting some heat.  
Harrison brought his body closer: His body temperature never seemed to be low, unlike how his attitude never seemed to be warm. She appreciated the gesture, she really did, but she didn’t express it. She had learned to use the same techniques Harrison used on her, and she preferred to save everything for her diary rather than open up to him.  
But she also knew, deep down, that if the afternoon continued that way, it would be easier to open up than ever.

“What are you thinking right now?” 

“Uhm?” 

“About me. What do you think of me right now?”

“Well,” Harrison sighed as he seemed to think about it, “I’m thankful to have you here with me. Mark wouldn’t sit next to me sharing a blanket in front of the fire with hot chocolate as we emotionally open up about failed marriages and superpowers.”

Her smile appeared without avoiding it. She could never hide it: knowing that, somehow, he appreciated her company was more than enough to make her happy, and with extreme care she moved closer to his body until she could rest her head on his shoulder.  
She felt Harrison rest his head on top of hers and put his arm around her, and she tried to enjoy it as best as she could. 

“Carrie.”

“Harrison.”

“What are you thinkin’ about while watching the fire?”

She felt her heart stop for a microsecond before it started pumping the blood even faster and more fluidly, and she knew that she was probably pale. But he wouldn’t see it, and she could always blame the cold.  
It was easier to lie. It was so much easier, actually. But it would be more satisfying to have that weight off of her heart. 

“In you.”

“What?”

“I’m thinking of you.”

Harrison wrapped her more with his arm, pulling her even closer to his body. Generally his displays of love came unconscious, so while he tried to act normal, his body always screamed otherwise. This was how, too, she could identify when he was displeased with something.  
So him getting closer to her body was a good sign. A sign that, although he would never get it out, he was thinking of her too. 

“Thinkin’ about me?”

“Thinking about you.”

Slowly she sensed Harrison's face turned, and she moved her head away from his shoulder so she could look at him. Their eyes met for a few seconds, brown and green struggling to reach domination or understanding. And, before she could think deeply about it and draw out the pros and cons, Carrie had leaned down to have her lips over Harrison’s. Centimeters, nothing more, staying there to convey her desire but at the same time giving him his space in case he wanted to move away.  
Harrison didn’t separate, but one of his hands lightly stroked Carrie’s arm. He breathed on her soft lips on purpose, as if examining the limits of both, and leaned towards her only to caress her lips with his. Slightly, without ever becoming a kiss they had wanted since the last time they had seen each other. 

The eyes were kept open, studying each other’s features. The greenish eyes looked at the brown ones, and the brown ones studied the green ones.  
It wasn’t until then that Carrie thought about releasing it. Her hand reached up to stroke his long hair, and she heard and felt how he sighed on her lips. It made her smile, and she riskily outlined his lower lip with her tongue. 

“I was thinking how much I love you, Carrison.”

Harrison’s breath hitched in his own chest, but his hand went to Carrie’s hair, plunging his hand into it. 

“I thought I was Harrie,” he murmured, his lips finally intertwining with hers in the kiss they’d built in a minute and wanted fiercely.  
Their lips danced, his on hers, as their hands began to caress more. 

She was in his lap some time later, letting her head fall back with her lips parted. Her body pressed against his, and her hands held his head and tangled in his hair so she could tug on it from time to time.  
Harrison spread kisses on the exposed skin of her collarbone as his hand struggled with the bra, and with each kiss on her skin, he released a new word. She knew she wasn’t thinking more than usual at the time, but her smile reappeared when with one last kiss the bra fell off and Harrison finally repeated his ideas and words in one complete sentence without interruption. 

“And I was thinkin’ about how much I love you, Carrie,” he whispered, leaving another kiss on her skin before reaching her lips, “The answer never ceases to amaze me.”


End file.
